Between the Stars
by Gegegehu
Summary: Summary: in the distant future, mankind is methodically destroying every race that could pose threat to it. Until this time, they had only easy victories. Now, when the bloodiest war of the last ten thousand years is about to break out, humanity's most br
1. Default Chapter

Between the Stars

Disclaimer: I own nothing, as usual.

Summary: in the distant future, mankind is methodically destroying every race that could pose threat to us. Until this time, they had only easy victories. Now, when the bloodiest war of the last ten thousand years is about to break out, humanity's most brilliant Admiral meets a mysterious, dark-haired stranger from an exotic place...

Visualization: Warhammer 40K, Starcraft (especially the video after the terran level 10) and Star Wars gave me the inspiration to form the human fleet. Think along those lines. (other races will be described when they appear, I don't want to spoil any surprises)

Rating: who cares? (Probably R).

**Prologue**

The year is 2384.  
The world is a much wider place.  
Peace reigns on Earth.  
War rages in space.  
To the very end.

Some nameless star two thousand light-years from Old Earth  
Moira-class battleship Destiny  
Central bridge.

A young woman was leaning over the shoulder of the operator of the main vidscreen. She was wearing jeans and a sparkling blue blouse. Her long, black hair was clasped together by a diamond-adorned barrette. Her dark tresses were tickling the neck of the operator, but he didn't dare to move. Her strawberry scent filled his nostrils. He'll get a lot of free beers for his story tonight! He was already envied for his position on the bridge, but after this! She nearly touched him!

She glanced down at his nametag. She couldn't read it upside down, so she used his rank instead.

'Sergeant, could you please zoom in a bit on the planet?' He obeyed, the spinning blue globe filled the screen. The same picture could be seen on the twenty-foot wide screen above her, but she preferred the monitor. She was resting one hand on the back of his chair, holding her café in the other.

One of the attendants approached her. He was wearing the uniform of the Navy, just like everyone else except her. Black pants and long-sleeved silk shirt, a communicator clasped to his belt. It was pointless to carry sidearms on a spaceship, battles weren't fought hand-to-hand anymore. The shirt was amethyst blue with an inch-wide silver stripe across his chest, indicating that he served on the flagship of the Fourth Human Fleet. His nametag said Major Louis Chan. He was of the far-eastern race, but some Negroid blood showed in his skin and his hair. He stopped at a respectful distance and a good minute later, when she finished watching the planet and turned to him, he saluted.

'Commander, all specimen-collectors have left the planet. The bombers are ready. We are only awaiting your order.'

'Proceed.' She sounded sad. It didn't go unnoticed by her officers; they'd have done anything to cheer her up. Half the fleet had a crush on her.

'Commander, you need to...' He didn't know how to correct his commander.

'I know. Destiny, record my words.'

'Recording started, Admiral.' The ship's computer had a pleasant male voice, but it sounded dead and alien; it wasn't programmed to express any emotions.

'I, Elizabeth Parker, Admiral of the Fourth Human fleet hereby order the Exterminatus of planet number ET-256.'

'Record stored, Admiral.'

'Now you can proceed, Captain.' She said without waiting for an answer. She turned back to watching the large screen. The bridge came alive. The fighter-commanders started giving orders to the squads under them. Vice Admiral Enteroff, the captain of the Destiny, ordered the hangar bays to open. Vice Admirals James Valenti and Samuel Pierce, captains of the two other battleships of the fleet, Fate and Doom, did the same. The bombers left the sides of the Moira-class spaceships in threes, while the fighters escorting them did so in dozens. There was no alien threat here, but the protocol was that no bomber could go on a mission without fighter-cover. In one minute thirty-six bombers and more than a hundred fighters formed up ahead of the fleet, streaking through hundred thousands of miles of emptiness to their target.

The orders were given, there was nothing left to do. Silence filled the bridge, except for the fighter-commanders giving unnecessary directions to their underlings. Everyone else was staring at the wide vidscreen. It focused on the green orb nearly filling it. After two minutes, one by one, tiny dots appeared at the lower edge. The engine-glow of the fighters and the bombers. Ten thousand miles before the atmosphere, the fighters scrambled, assuming patrol, while the bombers continued their run.

Everyone watched holding their breath as the first bomber dived into the atmosphere. Seventeen others followed, all releasing their deadly payload over pre-calculated points of the planet. Numbers started to run down on the left edge: the countdown. The small crafts quickly pulled away from the world condemned to death.

Sixty seconds later the first bomb exploded. Then the next. Eighteen explosions in quick succession. Millions of years of evolution evaporated in one minute. The blue orb slowly turned black and red as the firestorm destroyed the air and an all-consuming flame enveloped the planet.

Silence filled the bridge. One minute of silence for a living world.

Then things resumed their normal pace. Once all crafts returned, the fleet started to move.

The three enormous moiras turned slowly away from the flaming planet, the cruisers, destroyers, and frigates all around them followed their example. The Fourth assumed traveling formation: the motherships on the vertexes of an equilateral triangle, the smaller ships in the middle. Slowly, the faint glow of the engines dimmed. The computers of the battleships synchronized their clocks one last time.

'Navigation ready.'

'Space-ingurgitator-drives ready.'

'All fighters in hangars.'

'Escort ships in position.'

Then finally came the reports from the sister-ships.

'Fate is ready to proceed.'

'Doom is awaiting our signal.'

The Admiral threw a last glance at the Earth-sized ember that was a living, breathing planet not even half an hour ago. It was a heart-breaking sight. She sighed and said softly,

'Let's go home. There is nothing left here.' Enteroff nodded to his adjutant, and exactly ten seconds later, the Fourth Human Fleet left the star-system with three-thousand times the speed of light.

But this time the youngest, and most brilliant admiral of humanity was wrong. In the nearby asteroid field, a small rock started to move. It limped out of the field, turned ninety degrees and left the now-empty system in the direction of a strange, V-shaped constellation...


	2. Ch 1Part 02

**Part 2**

Liz

I leave the bridge when the fleet reaches the traveling speed of twenty-five thousand c. I loath myself at times like this. I murdered twenty million innocents. I ordered them to be slaughtered. They were harmless, they have done nothing wrong, their only sin was that they existed. I'm half running, I can't break down in front of my people. They are as strong as I am, if I show weakness, they'll show it too. Officers are staring after me as I hurry down the corridors. I finally reach my quarters and hit the door opener. It recognizes my fingerprints and lets me in. I have the largest flat of the fleet, more than three hundred square meters of valuable space. When the door closes behind me, I kick off my shoes, and I throw myself down on my bed. I let my tears flow freely. I curse my race, I curse Ricker, and his fucking doctrine, I curse my job, that forces me to do these things, and most of all I curse myself because I'm so good at it.

A whole civilization of intelligent insectoid creatures, communicating with pheromones. They had magnificent structures held together by their spit. A complex caste system. Culture. Art. They had lived. They had loved. And now it's just ashes. A few thousand of them inside a gigantic specimen collector, that's all that remains from a whole race. Oh, they'll be fine under a Dome on either Eden or Paradise, the twin-planets for exterminated races; the irony of the names! Oh, no, we don't throw away anything that could be of further use, we carefully store them, examine them, and experiment on them. After all, it's for humanity's best interest.

Bitterness fills me. I don't know how the others can cope with that sight. A lush green and ocean blue planet turning to black and red in seconds. I know I can't; yet, I couldn't tear my eyes away. I owed them that. All the millions who died because of me.

When did humans become inhuman? In the old times, the twenty-first century, humane meant compassionate, caring, loving. Now human means cold, cruel, and efficient. Back then, they had believed in the brotherhood of sentience, the links connecting all life. They had dreamed of a peaceful universe, some kind of big republic where everyone has the right to live and the freedom to seek happiness and fulfillment in that life.

There is nothing left of those dreams. We are the Human Republic, a tight alliance of thirty inhabited worlds, with three more already being colonized. ET-256 will be the thirty-fourth in another forty years. The republic was formed from three mega-states back in the XXII. century, the Canado-American States, the Euro-African Union, and the Asian Republic. Mars became the second planet, Alpha the third. Then the first contact was made with the Tritons. They were peaceful water-dwellers, and they gladly shared all their technologies, science and culture with us, and most importantly, the coordinates of their four star systems. They were pacifists, sweet, innocent, and wise. They entered space thousands of years before us, but they lacked the motivation to expand or to conquer. The Tritons didn't know the word "ambition." We did. We learned whatever we could. We've even enlisted the Tritons help to build the very warships that destroyed their planets later. They didn't understand the purpose of armed ships, they saw it as an engineering challenge, and they did good job.

Two months later, the Tritons were only a memory. The head of Council was called Ricker in those days. The infamous Ricker-doctrine was composed after the Triton wars. It is basically about the survival of the fittest. It says that humanity must expand without pause, conquering and colonizing all available planets and systems. That if an alien civilization appears, then humanity must pretend friendship until we know it's true power. If it's weaker, then it must be eliminated without mercy after we learned everything from them that could be of use. If it's stronger, then we must build up the fleet until we can attack. No lasting alliance is to be made. No alien is allowed to know the coordinates of a human world. No war is to be started if we aren't sure we'll win. Show no mercy. And finally, never ever endanger humanity's survival. Colony ships must be ready to bolt, if a war begins. If everything fails, all our planets are scorched, we must be able to rebuild again. Even the backup plans must have backup plans.

These are the basics of humanity's foreign affairs. In the last two hundred years, we've never met anyone else who even invented safe matches. Two hundred and fifty five Earth type planets. More than a hundred bustling with life. Twenty times, intelligent life. Another sixty non-Earth type planets with life, five of them sentient. Now all of them are extinct. The planets conquered, sometimes colonized, sometimes awaiting to be colonized. Humanity's growth rate is the only limitation of our expansion, and our population doubles every forty years or so. We live in never imagined luxury; for the first time in human history, there are more material resources at our disposal than we can use. The Council is fighting very hard lest decadency corrupts our society. There are sixty billion humans (or terrans, as it is fashionable nowadays) scattered around the galaxy. Our life expectancy is over two hundred years. Crime is at a nominal level, with poverty and destitution gone, there is no source of it remaining.

Our race has changed too. During the last hundred years, humanity took the next step in evolution. About five percent of the kids born today have minor mental powers. Telepathy, telekinesis and auspex are taught along history and mathematics. We don't yet know our limitations, being a psychologist is one of the hottest jobs in this century. Our fighter pilots all have prescience, it's their only chance against computer-controlled drones. They can see where the enemy will shoot, the computer can't. But the AIs' reaction time is under the millionth of a second, while a human pilot's is only a hundredth. We are slow and blind compared to a computer, but now the development of the fighter drones and the mental training of the pilots, it's a neck and neck race. My money is on the pilots, no drone can measure up to the decision making ability of a human. Kyle definitely agrees with me, though the drones have their own good points too. I can send a drone into certain death, while I would hesitate to do it with a pilot. But someday, I'll have to. The first rule of warfare is that there is no victory without a price. By this definition today wasn't a victory. It was slaughter. Pointless and unnecessary. Why did we do it then? Why did I do it?

I've run out of tears. Mourning the dead won't bring them back.

I'm feeling even more miserable than I usually do. I can wallow in self-pity, but pain won't ease my conscience. I think I'm going to take some sleeping pills and in the morning... Well, I won't feel any better in the morning, but the pain will be dulled somewhat. Another thing to have nightmares about. One more reeking wound on my conscience. Sometimes I think I'm the only one who has any.

Maria

I've finished my shift. I work as an exobiologist; studying defeated alien life forms. While the fleets are moving, I'll never run out of work. We were watching those bee-creatures in the specimen collectors. Their environment has to be carefully controlled, if we want them to survive till they reach Eden. Too little or too much UV light, a tiny change in the atmosphere, everything can be deadly. We aren't acquainted with their biology, but hopefully they have everything they need in the one-kilometer wide earth-chunk each collector carries. Because if they don't, we can't go back for another round.

Liz will have another breakdown. That's the only reason I leave my lab now, she needs me. After the fleet took off a year ago,I instantly moved in with her. As one of the scientific personnel (my official rank is Lieutenant, not that it matters) I'd be entitled to my own ten square meters cabin, but now I have the greater half of three hundred square meters as a courtesy of my best friend. Plus I can get as many free lunches as I want, provided I share some details about her.

Honestly, this fleet is crazy with her. She is deified by the crew. Half the fighter jocks are in love with her. And that means two thousand muscular, manly males! Not that she is interested in anyone, she is the epitome of the untouchable commander. If I wouldn't know better from personal experience, I'd even believe the rumor that she moved in together with her lesbian lover. Not that anyone would dare to voice this opinion on Destiny; he'd be torn apart before he could finish the sentence.

I know she is the best admiral. She can beat any of the others, and half the times even two of them at the same time. That's the only reason she still has control of the Fourth. She is well known for her eccentricities. She nearly never wears her uniform, she shares her living space with someone else, she regularly asks the crew's opinion on questions concerning them... The only reason the Council hasn't replaced her yet is that Destiny has the highest moral of the whole navy and our people are the most efficient at any task. So while she produces results, they turn a blind eye. If they only knew that their most precious Admiral is their greatest enemy!

Liz is a moralist and a dreamer. That's the reason she is probably crying her eyes out right now. Every time she has to wipe out a planet, she swears bloody oaths that she'll change the system. I don't know if she is right. I mean look at the Tritons. A hyper-advanced, eudaimonistic society, and where it led them? One race thrives, one dies out. Whose strategy was better? But on the other hand, I don't have the blood of millions on my hand. Don't get attached to the specimen under examination. That's the rule that keeps you sane while you are working with intelligent life forms. Probably you are no better than they are, they just had tough luck, and they ended up on the wrong side of the bars. Most of the time I pity them; I have the freedom to do so, they are already defeated. But she gets attached even before she knows them. And that's a dangerous attitude at someone whose job is to exterminate them without mercy. Poor Liz.

The crew knows that something is not all right with their commander. That she feels bad about it. She is truly the heart of the Fourth. If something troubles her, it troubles the whole fleet, most of all Destiny. I've been hearing talks about right and wrong, questioning Ricker, the Council, and our own actions. They are way too sensitive to her mood, and the way they admire her... She had won their hearts long ago, and she has far more power over them than she realizes.

Reaching our quarters, I open the door and step in. It's furnished with real wood and soft springy carpets are covering the metal floor. Two bedrooms, an enormous living room, a diner, a study, a kitchen, a small private gym, and the best bathroom of the fleet. There is a door encoded to her genetic material, even I can't enter it. In crisis, Destiny can be controlled from there. I know she is at home, I nearly fell over in her shoes. I check the living room and the kitchen, then I knock on the door of her bedroom. No answer. I turn the doorknob and step in. She is sleeping on her side of her double bed. As far as I know no one else has ever slept in it, but she only uses one half, the other is meticulously made. Compare it to my bedroom! She has her "street clothes" on, she hasn't even bothered to turn off her com. I do it for her and I tuck her in. Just as I thought, she has cried herself to sleep. Her blouse is of course ruined by her tears; it was her best article of clothing. I don't know why everyone has a crush on her. I mean she looks decent enough in good lighting, but she is not a top model or anything. She never bothers with make-up, and she wears only her most comfortable clothes. Some mornings I practically have to forbid her to go to the bridge in sweat pants! I use the word morning out of habit of course; there are no days or nights here, but our daily sleeps are synchronized, so we can have at least breakfast and dinner together. However, our usual time to go to bed is three hours away, and I'm not sleepy at all. I'm thrilled instead by the new specimens. But I can't leave her alone now. She can wake up at any time, and she'll need a friend when she does..


	3. Ch1 Part 03

Part 3

Two weeks later

The Fourth turned off the SI drives when they reached the Sol system. The three enormous battleships and the hundred cruisers in their trail found themselves facing the First, or home fleet. When both sides made equally sure that this is not some elaborate trap, the Fourth began to move forward to the stellar docks near Jupiter. It was out of question that any of the battleships land on Earth, they wouldn't support their own weight. Even AG (anti-gravity) suspensors would make only a temporary solution. There was just too much armor on them. While the three moiras moved into their own "dry docks," the rest of the fleet scattered into various naval yards throughout the solar system. There were two inhabited planets and 5 colonized moons, thus making it the largest settlement of mankind, but it could only host two fleets at the same time, and one of them was always the home fleet. Its sole purpose was to defend Earth, Mars, and the neighborhood of the Sun. The Second protected all the other planets, it was scattered throughout the galaxy, always on the move. The Third was the reserve fleet, usually orbiting Alpha and New Earth, the second largest colonies, ready to be called to battle if the need arose.

The Fourth was the offensive fleet, it was spending ninety percent of operative time outside the borders of humanity, conquering and destroying alien civilizations.

The Fifth was the scout and scientific fleet. It was a fleet only in its name, it had no true battleships, and only nominal central command. The explorer ships were mapping distant stars, making contact with aliens, examining them, and then reporting their whereabouts to the Fourth.

The Sixth was the oldest fleet, practically junk now, but it could be called to battle too. It was usually orbiting one of the industrial planets where it was continuously being upgraded.

While the fleet was undergoing major repairs and weapon upgrades, the crew got shore time. Those who were from around here could visit their family, while the others used the two months of peace and quiet to blow off some steam. About one-tenth of the fifty thousand people retired, got reassigned or otherwise left the fleet, and fresh cadets took up their work. And all the tasks crashed down on the Admiral. Idiotic messengers from the Council, demanding reports and explanations for expenses, the handling of reassignment requests, the decisions between the new kinds of weaponry researched in the meantime, and attending meetings and formal occasions with various parts of the elite. Six months' work for two.

And all the calls and visits to the admiral's office only met an increasingly grumpy Alexander Whitman, who informed everyone, that sadly, the Admiral Parker is nowhere to be found. Yes, there is the expense budget. No, we really want the B-type gauss cannon, not the A, and no, we don't need a live presentation. We've already seen it on vid and that was convincing enough. And finally, the admiral is unlikely to be attending any social events, but please be so kind to leave your number here, and you'll be the first to be called if she changes her mind. So, to cut a long story short, much to the annoyance of the bureaucrats, the most eccentric officer of the fleet performed her famous disappearing trick iagain /i, and just like any other time, without a percent drop in efficiency.

Liz

'Okay Alex, I owe you a barrel of single malt. Fine, fine two. I can't thank you enough. So, what else turned up apart from the expected things?' I am calling him in my own office from his own flat. We had begged, cried, made puppy eyes, and when none of the above worked, bribed him into giving us the keys and covering for us. Of course, I can't allow my intense dislike for bureaucracy to influence the fleet, but thank god, the five hours meeting about the health of the crew, when all the reports, requests and plans had been prepared months ago is truly unnecessary. There'll be a few times when I need to appear, at least once before the Council, once before the crowds (I hate that one already. There is nothing worse than seeing an endless sea of people hailing you for slaughtering a completely defenseless civilization.) and a few technical demonstrations. Plus I'll need to mop the floor with Admiral Houston in a simulated battle, but I don't really understand why he feels that a rematch is necessary. The last time the Fourth destroyed Earth without losing a moira, while he had all the defensive battle stations under his command beside his fleet. No one has ever seen so many big shots kicked out of the defense ministry, like when I had proven that all of their precious Starforts are worth nothing.

Houston kept his job though. I don't really understand why, it was clear that the guy can't think under stress, but that's not my problem. He claimed that I'd cheated. Well, it was never written down that I couldn't send over a commando team in a cloaked asteroid who were to drill his ship's hull and take control of the reactor chamber. He claimed that he didn't dare to send his men down, because unlike in a real war, he couldn't kill them. I countered by saying that in a real war he wouldn't have had to send his people over, because instead of the commando team, a tactical nuke would've been sent down to the reactor chamber, and I didn't need to finish the sentence. The jury examining his protest was convinced and I walked away laughing.

He'll have a lot of good plans ready this time also. I bet he spent the last two years preparing for this, but once I surprise him, he'll lose all control again. It's a tough game, pal, and even inferior forces can win when they face an enemy who is clueless at what to do. The best part was when I had a few of his officers "approached" after the defeat, offering them a ireal/i chance to show their skills. Mysteriously, fourteen high ranking officers and another hundred of their underlings requested reassignment the day after, and it was just dumb luck that I'd kicked out fourteen of my ship-commanders and tactical officers along with their staff that morning... Once it leaked out (and I made sure it leaked out), the whole Earth was laughing at Houston. I heard he didn't take it well. So he'll be desperate to win, and once things start to slip out of his hands, he'll panic, and then I'll crush him. The fact that I'll know his every decision a good minute before he makes them will be a bit of help too...

But for now, I just finish the conversation with Alex, giving him a few orders about various issues, and when he finally hangs up, I go back to my cheri. Alex has a magnificent house. We're in the southern part of what used to be the Greece. The villa is overlooking the Mediterranean, about five kilometers from the outskirts of Athens. I guess, being the right hand of one of the six admirals has its perks. I don't own anything like this. To be exact, I don't own anything apart from my clothes. I must have huge amounts of money, though I've no idea how rich I am. I don't even know how much is my salary. I spend only half as much as Maria does, and even she has a nice sum set aside! And she is a lieutenant, while I'm... well, you get the picture.

My parents are from New Roswell, Alpha. It was christened New Roswell because one of our ships has crashed there. The real Roswell was (or still is?) on Earth, and supposedly aliens visited it regularly. That's bullshit. We've never met any race resembling the descriptions. We've never met even remotely humanoid races at all. There are just too many possible shapes, too many roads for evolution to take, to expect anything like us. Anyways, they own a small restaurant there. I've never been home in the last three years. We send each other cards regularly, but it's not the same. I wonder how they are doing?

We came here with Kyle. Shame on him, his father is working his heart out while his son is vacationing on one of the most beautiful beaches of Earth. I love standing on the balcony, looking at the stars. They look so different from down here! They seem to hold some mystery, the promise of eternity. I know that their winking is caused by atmospheric disturbances, but I can't help to be awed by their glory. Down here, they are your friends. Their beauty is eternal. They've inspired so many of our greatest poets! I too feel, the silent pull at my heart, whispering to me that I'm not alone, that they'll show me the way. Since we walk among the stars, we have lost the ability to marvel at their wonder.

Out there... out there they are only huge balls of fire indicating the locations of possible enemies. I've come to hate the stars. They are signals of new planets, new crimes to be committed, new lives to be extinguished. It's a the saddest thing there is. Hating the stars.

I'm snapped out of my stargazing by Maria.

'Come on, Liz, you can't just sit there, getting drunk all alone and depressed.'

'Excuse me, I'm not getting drunk. ' I try to put as much life and indignation into my voice as I can. I try to steer her away from the alone and depressed part.

'That's your third cheri. You are sixty-two kilos. This means that after the tenth you'll be out cold.' That's the problem when your best friend is a doctor, even if she majored in exo-biology.

'All she needs is a good lay, ' Kyle chimes in. This time I don't have to feign indignation.

'Excuse me?'

'Come on, Liz, when were you last with a man? You know, male homo sapiens.'

'That's none of your business.'

'Maria, help me here. Tell her that she needs some sex, and we are going to get it for her.' Maria is watching me with a thoughtful expression. Please, please, don't tell me, that you are seriously considering this.

'Kyle, now you mentioned it, it just might be the solution I've been looking for. Chica, we need to go partying, and you are not going to sleep alone tonight.'

'Wait, wait, wait. You can't just sell me out to the highest bidder! I thought you were my friends.'

'Exactly. We are your friends. That's why you and me are going to go upstairs right now and choose a dress for you, and after that we're going to Athens and find you some nice guy. And don't try to protest. There are two of us against you.' It's hopeless to resist, if I play along I might escape later, before she hooks me up with someone. Don't get me wrong, I've no objections against guys - in general. But I can't start a relationship with one of my officers and I don't have time for anything once ashore. I'm a little too old-fashioned, I like to know at least the guy's name before I bed him. I like to meet the prey on my on turf. So, I haven't been with anyone for years now. Not that I really miss it... Hell, who am I lying to? Even I deserve a good night's fun once in a while.

'Okay, but let's lay down a few ground rules. I'll go as Liz, not Elizabeth Parker and definitely not as Admiral Parker. If anyone as so much mentions my rank, we are out of there. I don't want to be on the front pages. Second. No military, no government official, no bureaucrat. Some women are impressed by uniforms, somehow, I don't find them so irresistible. Third, if I don't like him, you'll help me to lose him. I don't want any psychos or stalkers. Agreed?' I know I'm making the wrong decision as I see them nod; they are grinning devilishly. What have I gotten myself into?


End file.
